Disconnected
by oh sailor
Summary: Sometimes fairy tales aren't enough.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire or Something I Never Had by Lindsay Lohan. **

A/N: Just a short little piece that I wrote to get me out of my funk. Of you would like to see more chapters, request them in reviews. Pretty please? Reviews…_winks…_hint hint

I want to hold on, but it hurts so bad And I can't keep something I never had 

"Something I Never Had" by Lindsay Lohan

I stand in front of the three-way mirror, bathed in cream-colored light, adjust my veil, and try not to cry. Organ music plays somewhere in the church, Pacabel's Cannon in D, floating into my empty dressing room. My white gown envelopes me, white roses are tangled in my golden hair, and an engagement ring glimmers on my third finger. I look beautiful, so why do I feel so ugly and wasted away?

Of course, I've never been sure about anything in my life. When I had my first kiss, I wasn't sure if it was special; I've never been able to decide what I wanted to wear to school, or get my friends for their birthdays. And yet, after the making the biggest mistake of my life, I am completely and totally certain that I don't want to be in this dress, at this church, or getting married. But it's too late to back out of the fairy tale I've been placed in.

The way love works is blindly, fumbling through darkness until it finds someone fit to hold the torch. It's beautiful, and miraculous, and as delicate as a spider's web. You embrace it, and live it, and pray that the miraculous feeling never goes away. Only sometimes the light dims, and all you can do is wait helplessly for something you'll never know again. People do stupid things because they love each other, and cruel things because they love each other, and wonderful things because they love each other. Men kill their wives because they love them, and mothers beat their children because they love them and want them to be strong. People kill themselves because someone they love has been taken away.

I suppose I loved him once; a long time ago when I was a little girl, and a kiss on a rooftop was enough to grant him my heart forever. There was a time when the sight of him gave me butterflies in my stomach and a time when it cut me to the bone to see him talk to any girl but me.

But that was a long time ago.

The door to the room opens and my mother walks in, her blonde hair striking against her pink gown, her eyes alight to see her little girl so grown up. I wish I could tell her to make all the guests go home, have the organ stop playing. I want to step out of this dress and be fourteen again, in love with my best friend and worrying about a science test. I want to be a child again.

"Oh, Lizzie you look beautiful." She breathes, taking my hand and helping me down from where I stand on the stool. My dress swishes lightly behind me as I sit down at the vanity, stroking a brush across my cheeks and glossing my lips.

"Well, hurry darling. You've got to be there out there in five minutes." She says, adjusting one of the roses and fixing a curl near my ear. I turn to the mirror and hear the door shut, my mother's footsteps receding into silence. Life swept me up in the current, and when I finally opened my eyes I had been carried so far away that there was no point in going back to where I started.

There's a door that leads from my room onto a courtyard, and from the courtyard into the parking lot, where a black stretch limo waits for Gordo and me. I could slip through the door, leaving nothing but a note behind.

I could go to Hollywood or Sacramento or…somewhere far away from Gordo and my white gown that suffocates me and holds me hostage inside silk and white lace.

But then I think about how happy Gordo looked when I showed up at the church this morning, and how this is Dad's one chance to walk me down the aisle. I remember that this is Mom's one and only chance to be mother of the bride. Miranda stands at the altar in a blue dress that I picked for her, and friends and family have gathered from all over to see Lizzie and Gordo finally get married. We've been destined to be together for so long that we've been reduced to initials: LG. My parents think it's funny. Gordo thinks it's cute.

It makes me want to cry.

I am almost to the point of pushing back the chair to the vanity, when the conscious that plagues me with good thoughts kicks in, forcing me to sit down and straighten my hair.

How could I do that to my family? How could I break Gordo's heart? I love him. Really.

I hope.

Jennifer, my wedding planner, pokes her curled head around the door, the creamy light only accentuating the harsh lines and folds of her blue suit. I want Jenny to switch places with me. I want to be the one in the suit, watching a nameless blonde girl get married to the man of her dreams. Cut the cake, kiss the girl. A successful romance, courtesy of the right linens and expensive champagne.

"Lizzie?" she snaps shrilly, checking her Timex watch impatiently and snapping her manicured fingers. "What do you want to do, miss your own wedding?" She laughs absently at the thought. "You need to go, honey."

I swallow hard and slowly rise from my chair, trying to ignore the way my mirror swims in front of my eyes. One foot slowly steps in front of the other, and I stand in the doorway, looking out at the courtyard.

"Thanks Jennifer." I say sweetly, patting her padded shoulder, shuffling my feet on the carpet.

"Thank you Elizabeth. Hurry, now!" she says briskly, shutting the oak door behind her and ushering me through the hallways.

I can hear the music growing louder, swelling under the pulse of piano keys. I keep telling myself to breathe, not to faint. The entrance to the church is packed with a flurry of people trying to get in the right order. Miranda sees me and rushes over, her black hair shining against the light blue of the dress.

"Ooh, Lizzie, you're beautiful." She breathes, clasping her hands together.

"Thanks Miranda." I say sweetly, resisting the temptation to ask her if she wants to try my dress on.

My cousins Brianna and Hilary rush over, their little flower baskets spilling red and pink rose petals as they run. "Lizzie, Lizzie!" They squeal, throwing their little arms around my legs.

"Brianna! Hilary! Places!" Jennifer snaps, snapping her fingers at the blonde five and seven year olds.

Time moves in slow motion as Pacabel starts over and the bridesmaids begin their slow ascent to the altar, their dresses trailing on the red carpet. I can see Gordo standing in his suit, smiling at the door. He can't see me, but he must know I'm there.

My father takes my arm, kissing my cheek.

"I love you Lizzie." he says gently, squeezing my hand.

'Here Comes the Bride' begins, the song that I dreamed about from childhood. Brianna and Hilary step forward in unison, their dresses showing off their tiny white shoes, rose petals scattering onto the floor.

I clench my hands around my bouquet and fight the urge to run. I can do this. I can do this. I might unravel in the process, but I can do it.

I steady my legs and take one step forward.


End file.
